Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Dawson, my brother who’s a year younger than Beckett, steps forward next. He extends his hand to Sage with a charming grin. “I’m Dawson, the actual good-looking brother.” His eyes twinkle with humor, and Sage laughs brightly at his silly expression, a sound that fills the room with warmth. I decide to let him slide with the hand-touching, considering the circumstances.
“And I’m Atlas, the truly good-looking brother,” Atlas chimes in, his voice smooth as he offers Sage a handshake. Three years my senior, he’s the jokester of the family.
“Nice to meet all of you,” Sage responds, her smile radiant and genuine. I watch as my family, almost imperceptibly, falls head over heels for her charm and warmth, their faces softening in unison.
A long, chubby streak of black and tan and a round, mostly hairless blur flash past us, shaking the floor. And so, the fun begins. Beckett swears and hops up to chase Pork and Beans. The two culprits make a sharp turn into the living room, ignoring the pursuit and the laughter and the third lap call. These little shits are giving him a run for his money.
Mom shrugs like it's the most normal thing in the world. “A few more rounds and they'll be done.” Her easy smile says she’s completely used to this level of havoc.
Beckett stumbles back to the table, breathless. “That’s what I get for adopting the dipshit duo,” he huffs, stabbing at his dinner. We all know he’s blowing smoke. My asshole brother loves those two animals more than anything in the world. The floor vibrates again as the parade of fur crashes through.
Sage lets out a laugh that’s half-amused, half-disbelieving. “They’re so adorable.”
Mom chuckles. “They are. We all fell in love when Beckett adopted them together.”
“They were a package deal, all right,” Beckett groans, looking back at the havoc-makers, who are now wedged between the coffee table and the couch. He stabs a fork in their direction. “Stay there!”
For the moment, it looks like they're tired enough to listen.
I lean toward Sage. “Next time, you should bring Winnie. Pork and Beans would love to play with her again.”
Sage opens her mouth to answer, but Mom gets there first. “The more the merrier! Definitely bring her.” She claps her hands together. “She'd fit right in.”
I watch Sage beam. She's all big eyes and flushed cheeks, and I know she can't believe how crazy we all are. I like knowing she sees us for what we are and is still here.
The war zone across the living room settles as Pork stretches out and places his little head on Beans’ back. The two little shits fall instantly asleep, and soon, their combined snores fill the room. Beans goes limp under him.
Before long, the evening draws to a close. I glance over and notice Sage struggling to stifle her yawns, trying to mask her fatigue, and I know she's thoroughly exhausted. It’s been an incredibly busy week for both of us, filled with endless tasks and way too little sleep.
After we help Mom clean up the kitchen, I lean in to kiss Sage gently on the cheek and softly tell her it’s time for us to make our way home.
At the door, we pause, and Sage turns to my mother, her eyes warm and earnest, and says, “Thanks for a wonderful evening. It was so nice meeting all of you.”
Mom envelops Sage in another warm embrace. “It was fun having you here,” she replies with a smile that lights up her face. “We’ll have to do it again soon. Just you and me. How about lunch sometime?”
“That sounds great,” Sage responds, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.
“I knew how much they’d love you,” I say as we drive down the quiet road, the darkness outside wrapping us in a cocoon of solitude. Her hand rests in mine, warm and soft, offering comfort and connection.
“They were great,” she confesses with a soft chuckle. I hold on to her hand tightly, acutely aware of the million years of holding I have yet to catch up on. I never knew it could feel this complete, this perfect.
I gently bring her knuckles to my lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of her hand, and then another. “I promise this is just the beginning,” I vow, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” she murmurs, “because I’ve become kinda addicted to you.”
“Stay,” he says, voice steady but low enough that it echoes around the small, dim space of his living room, barely audible above the whisper of the ceiling fan. “You know you want to.”
The couch groans a little under our weight as I roll toward him, the world a swirl of exhaustion and pleasure. It's dark out, the only light coming from a lamp in the corner, half-covered by one of Ian's t-shirts. Our clothes are somewhere on the floor, too, tossed in a frenzy of making it from the door to the sofa.